It’s no use weeping endlessly at the Tomb
wanting the body back in the grave clothes
so your poor tired shoulders can recall
him breathing by your side. Even a corpse
undisturbed eventually melts to dust.
Since when were senses anything more
than extravagant hints to pierce the heart?
Turn, turn around: The angels are not the only
ones who ask why you weep. Listen now, and
look the Gardener full in the face. Does anyone
else speak your name in quite that beloved tone?